After taking home Oscars for writing the screenplay to their 1996 breakout film Fargo, motion picture insiders wondered what the prolific Coen Brothers would offer up next. Twelve years later, their anarchic answer -- the brilliant Big Lebowski -- has taken on a crazy cult life of its own. With yearly conventions and a bowling-based collective connecting to the wildly weird comedy thriller, the film stands as one of the boys' most endearing efforts. It's also one of their funniest, most richly realized big screen comedies.

After some ruffians break into the wrong house and pee on our hero's rug, stoner/slacker Jeff "The Dude" Lebowski (Jeff Bridges) seeks compensation from the man who actually owed the guys some money. Turns out the "Big" Lebowski (David Huddleston) has a problem that he'd like The Dude to solve. Seems his trophy wife Bunny (Tara Reid) has been kidnapped by a band of German nihilists, and he wants his mutual namesake to act as courier. With the help of his best friend and former Vietnam Vet Walter Sobchak (John Goodman), the Dude agrees to mule the ransom money -- that is, until he starts to wonder if this is not all some manner of setup between a spurned spouse and fat cat sugar daddy with available cash to burn. Besides, all this cloak and dagger stuff is wreaking havoc with his bowling game.

Wildly irreverent and wickedly funny, The Big Lebowski confirmed the Coen brothers were more than just overly ambitious critical darlings. They could deliver the belly laughs while staying true to their stylized revisionist ways. Like Raising Arizona before (and to a lesser extent, the silly screwball Hudsucker Proxy), this film found a way to connect with the common man, to use pot and profanity to say something identifiable to the growing film geek nation. It’s no wonder that many call it the first "Internet" hit, a movie that made little impact at the box office upon release, but racked up reverential revenues upon hitting home video. Today, there are groups dedicated to the characters, as well as organizations motivated to help you find your inner Lebowski.

All this, and the film is really nothing more than a crackerjack character study. The kidnapping plot and its ridiculous resolution is not what drives the fun. Nor do we really care about the various subplots (Bunny's porno past, Big's fiscal woes with loan shark Jackie Treehorn). When it comes right down to it, this movie succeeds because we come to appreciate The Dude, the always angry Walter, and their naïve friend Donny (a delightful Steve Buscemi) for the reflections of real life that they are. The sequences inside the bowling alley, conversations peppered with a wealth of vital vulgarities, stress the everyday interactions of marginalized people going through the social motions.

Things are further spiced up by some sensational supporting players, including John Turturro as the scene (and perhaps movie) stealing Jesus Quintana. A convicted sex offender ("Eight year olds, Dude" says Walter), his thickly accented taunts are worth the price of admission alone. Juliann Moore also puts on a nice level of ice queen bitchiness as the Big Lebowski's avant-garde artist daughter, Maude. She's like Katharine Hepburn meshed with any number of haughty trust fund divas. And at the center of it all stands Bridges, building his half-baked hippy hero from the grubby ground up. From the constant White Russian in his hand to his off kilter mantras ("The Dude abides.") we come face to face with a certified American original.

Indeed, that's a perfect description of why The Big Lebowski has only grown in appreciation over the years. It's a truly unique inventive, a collection of idiosyncrasies that come crashing together to form an unforgettable work of anarchic art. It might be the Coen brothers best work -- and that's saying a lot.